GM Spazmodeus presents Rise of the Rune Lords

Game Master Spazmodeus

Esgean sat with her hands in her lap as Shalelu spoke, the ranger's words sliding into her thoughts like stones sinking into deep water. Beside her, Rejke brushed his flank against her leg until she relented, tearing a chunk of hen from her plate and slipping it under the table. The bobcat took it delicately, his teeth careful against her fingers, then settled with a low chuff, tail curling around her ankle.

She turned the ranger's words over in her mind. Five tribes, each given a name like a charm or curse. Birdcrunchers. Licktoads. Seven Tooth. Mosswood. Thistletop. She repeated them silently, as though storing them in the quiet places of memory where roots held fast.

But names weren't what troubled her. Goblins did not wait. They swarmed, scattered, gnawed at the edges of things until they broke. For them to be patient, to be guided, that meant a hand strong enough to bend them.

Her thoughts flicked briefly to Sandpoint. The town was small and vulnerable. If the tribes moved together, there would be no wall high enough to keep them at bay. No heroes strong enough to stand against the horde.

She let her eyes drift back to Shalelu. The ranger tore into another hen with easy calm, grease shining on her fingers in the lamplight. Esgean found herself watching too long, caught between admiration and unease, before she remembered herself and looked away.

Another scrap of meat vanished under the table. Rejke's jaws clacked, then he pressed warm against her leg, anchoring her in the noise of the common room. Esgean listened intently for the answer to Joanna's question.

Marbyn decides she rather likes Shalelu. First, the elf certainly doesn't put on airs. Second her weirdness is kind of sweet and endearing. Third, this conversation seems more useful than any of the others that have happened before.

"So... five goblin tribes around here and there. About six leaders... which tribe has two leaders? Anyway, how do we know they're all involved? Like, were there goblins from all five tribes in Sandpoint? How do you, or we, tell them apart? Are all the tribes all in on cooperating, or are some still sort of sitting on the sidelines waiting to see how things are going before getting more than their toes wet?"

"And there's the really weird thing about the missing priest's body. Why would goblins want a long dead human? And do goblins use magic? There was that robe we found. Who would have been using that?"

"And has there ever been a goblin leader so great and clever that they would actually plan to use the attack as a diversion to steal a body from the boneyard? Everything else about goblins makes it sound like no, they would just go fully in on an attack, or forget the sneaky body snatching once they started to attack until after it's too late to use the attack as cover."

Sergyn finds Marbyn's comment a bit confusing. He starts "Wha... Oh, never mind, if it's important I'll find out." It seems he knows nothing about body snatching or magical robes. He actually thinks he might know a bit about the latter, but he doesn't really know how to approach it, so he covers his mouth by drinking more wine.

Shalelu nods at Sergyn's suggestion on killing the leader, "I agree...the problem is finding them." . she says tossing another hen carcass to the side, and grabbing another.

She winces a little, "Can't really call gobs heroes, can we. I guess to them gobs they are...let's see, there's Big Gugmut , a Mosswood who's tall and muscular for a gob. They say he had a hobgoblin for a mother and a wild boar for a father!" she says with a dry laugh, before continuing, talking around another juicy mouthful, " The Seven Tooths had one called Koravus, short tempered and famous for weilding some kind of enchanted sword. But he's gone and disappeared. Then there's Vorka, a cannibal who lives in the Brinestump...I guess he's hero to all but the Licktoads! The Brinestumps revere their cheiftain, Gutwad...huge, I mean fat huge, for a goblin. Ripnugget leads the Thistletop gobs..." says, then thinks, tapping a flensed chicken bone against her chin, "Oh yes..." she says, smiling , "Bruthazmu, a bugbear ranger that visits all of the tribes trading that which he's taken from caravans. I've a few run ins with him...none of them conclusive. I'll take him down someday...." she says bitterly, flinging down the bone onto the table.

Her face pensive, she's about to continue when Marbyn launches his barrage of questions. She calmly listens then continues, "I don't know the aim of stealing the holy man's body, but really, none of these gobs, while exceptional, none have the moxie or power to actually unite the tribes to work together. No....we're looking for something else entirely...."

It's at that moment that she catches Esgean staring at her, and she pauses waiting for the druid to ask a question. When Esgean looks away instead, Shalelu shrugs, and looks down at the table.

She's eaten half of the hens herself, and looks damn proud of that fact. She lifts the edge of the tablecloth and wipes her hands and mouth, removing most but not quite all of the grease away.

She motions for everyone to continue eating, as she pours herself a glass of her Mother's wine. Taking a large gulp, she sighs, and her face softens a bit, as she stares off, as if remembering sweeter times.

With a shake of her head , she returns to the present and says bluntly, "Drink , eat. I know some of you, but some are new to Sandpoint. Tell me your tales of how you came here, tell me of your fight with the goblins."

Joanna had been nibbling away at one of the hens, her second, while Shalelu answered their questions. She stares at the half-emptied glass of the wine sitting by her plate as she wonders how to begin and if she should tell the version of events she spun for the townsfolk or if she should be more truthful.

"To be honest, we were hard pressed," she says, "It was more luck than skill that carried the day. I have great teachers, but that was the first time I had ever fought anything. Bulvarius was almost burned to death. Sara and I had both been hurt pretty badly by the end of the raid. There were two others with us, Kemras and Audra, that did well enough. I'm not sure how Esgean, Marbyn, and Sergyn fared. They'll have to tell you themselves."

Sergyn listens to Shalelu with highly focused attention, forgetting his food and drink. He produces a small piece of parchment and writes down all the names and connections she mentions. Then he puts them away like some sort of treasure.

He pauses for a long time after she says that they are being organized by something that's smarter than a typical goblin. He isn't sure what to make of it yet, but after Joanna speaks, he says "I was in Magnimar during the raid. I've been living there for the last few years... Had been living there, it looks like I'm here now. I came to Sandpoint because my mom was killed in the raid, she was one of the few. Now I am here taking care of her assets, mainly her house, since it was all but stripped bare by my cousins."

Stopping himself from speaking more about nonsense family matters, he pivots "But my mother was a special person, she cared, she is a beautiful soul. I'm... angry." His hands start to fume, but the smoke is clearly a magical effect he is producing to showcase his rage. He says "I came here because... I thought... well, I though it was as simple as goblins killed my mother, now I will kill the goblins. But... what you're saying is that someone else orchestrated this. Someone else is at fault. Someone else needs to die."

Esgean sets her cup down, causing a small sound, like a punctuation.

"Sergyn," she says, realizing as she speaks that it is the first time she's addressed him, "I'm sorry. Loss weighs heavy like a coat in the rain. It smells of decay and something familiar. Anger is a bright tool, but don't let it become the only light."

She looks back at Shalelu, a nod like a stone acknowledging the river.

"I was at the tannery," she says, words without ceremony. "Lye and wet leather, the stink of hides, the steam that made the air thick as wool. Goblins came on us with small weapons and sharp teeth. We were unprepared, but there were knives within reach. I moved what I could, roots where footsteps should have been. Then birds - anything to slow the advance. Others filled it with their bravery."

Esgean lets her gaze rest openly on Shalelu, unguarded.

"You've been closer to their world than any of us," she says, her voice low but clear. "You've tracked their hunts, learned their names, felt the weight of their habits. I don't question that, but what I saw at the tannery wasn't just goblin chaos. It was pressure, almost like a hand behind them. I called the brambles and brought wings, and they kept coming until they didn't. That wasn't just Gugmut, or Ripnugget, or any of the others."

Her tone shifts, gentler, as if she is speaking to Shalelu alone. "You say none of them can unite the tribes. Maybe not. But… you've seen something. A person, or a place. I can hear it in the way you name their so-called heroes and then fall quiet. You have the thread in your hand, Shalelu. You just haven't pulled it yet."

She leans a little closer, speaks quieter. "When the storm comes again, and it will, Sandpoint will need more than guesses. It will need you. All of you. And if you've already glimpsed what lies behind this, don't carry it alone. Tell us. We'll listen. More than listen."

Joanna takes in a breath to say something to Sergyn, but Esgean proves faster off the mark. Rather than give voice to her own worries, she decides to let Esgean's words stand on their own and see how the young man handled the druidess' words.

Wise words at that, Joanna realizes as she listens with a dull-burning shame. She'd written off the young woman as star-struck, not full appreciating that there is more to her than her infatuation with Shalelu.

Maybe I'm the fool here. I'm certainly out of my depth when it comes to fighting goblins, luck or no.

She glances over at Sara, her cousin, to see what the Desnan priestess is thinking.

Sergyn relaxes a bit as Esgean speaks. He stops himself from snapping at her, just gives her an obviously faked smile and looks away, happy that the conversation is moving someplace else. In truth, her speech only made him remember something.

Being angry is something he always struggled with. He remembers his mother telling him "You'll get things done like this, but you need to make sure it's the things you want." Somehow, the druid's words reminded him of this.

Shalelu grows quiet and still as she focuses on each as they recount the tale of that day, or as in the case of Sergyn the horrible aftermath.

She then directs her gaze as Esgean, her face serious, "You forget, I only just returned to Sandpoint today, and learned of the attack and theft of poor Ezakien's body. That these acts and the organization of the region's goblin tribes are connected....I am sure. The reason and aim...and as you say 'the thread'....well, that remains to be found. "

She the pushes her chair out and stands, holding her mostly empty glass up, "I toast thee!" she declares, "Sandpoint's Heroes!". The other patrons join in the toast, yelling and cheering.

With a smile, Shalelu leans over the table to be heard over the hubbub, "I leave Sandpoint now, to return to the wilds. I will do what I can to find out the answer to all of this." she says, straightening to drain the dregs of her glass.

"Eat...drink. For tomorrow may bring more woe to our town. I feel good leaving it in your capable hands!" she declares, to more cheers from the other patrons.

With that, she give you a curt nod, slings her pack over one shoulder and departs the Rusty Dragon.

Sara smiles and gives a polite nod to Shalelu at her toast and the tavern's cheers.

"Thank you, Shalelu, for your insights and your trust. We'll do what we can to keep the town safe. I hope you return quickly, though - the sooner we get our answers, the sooner we can try to put a stop to whatever is driving the goblins."

Sara puts on a brave face as she faces the patrons while Shalelu is leaving, but slumps down on her chair when the attention leaves the group, visibly worried.

Now we're facing five tribes, led by someone strong enough to get goblins of all things working together for a common purpose. Why? And why take father Tobyn's remains? Why us? Why Sandpoint? What could possibly drive someone to this?

She glances sideways to Sergyn for a bit, knowing his pain all too well. And all these doubts are making it even worse for poor Sergyn... I'm... not sure being this involved is the best thing for him, to be honest. But I can't fault his need to do something.

Finally, she speaks up to the group. "I... I'm not too sure what we can do until we get more answers. Or what the sheriff actually asked you all to do for him besides meet with Shalelu. But... Maybe we should try to look for more clues to who could be behind the goblins? There's just... so much that doesn't make sense. And maybe try to get the town ready in case of another attack? Recruit more people to the militia, try to give them further training?" Sara looks hopefully to Joanna. "Maybe your uncle Darius could hellp with that? I just... I think we need to be doing something, anything to help. Not only to bring a sense of ease to everyone else, but because I can see at least myself going crazy if I just stand around wondering why this is happening and what we can do about it."

Sergyn finally puts 2 and 2 together. "So, Father Tobyn's body was stolen? That's weird.", he thinks. Then Shalelu becomes completely formal. Sergyn thinks she was addressing the other patrons more than the group. He tries to hide his face when the patrons cheer the group on. He feels undeserving of praise.

Afterwards, Sara starts talking and brings many questions forward. Sergyn only says "I don't know. The sheriff asked us to make ourselves visible. I wouldn't know who to ask. I imagine that if there were goblins taken prisoners during the raid, they've already been questioned? What did they say?"

"I don't think any of them knew much if they were captured. I gathered that any that didn't die at the end of a sword or spear died when they leapt from Junker's Edge," Joanna tells Sergyn before turning back to her cousin.

"Sergyn pretty much said what Sheriff Hemlock wants us to do. Given the cheers we got, thanks to Shalelu, I would say that he's right. Just having us around will help ease everyone's nerves, but I think it'd be a good idea to do what we can. I could probably talk Uncle Darius into helping, if I could find him. I haven't seen him in a while."

The young noblewoman looks about casually, though it's clear she's starting to worry about her missing bodyguard from the way she nervously taps the table.

Sergyn is about to say something when he shuts himself up and says "What? Who's missing? What happened?" It's as if he only now was able to see past his own issues and other people also have worries.

"My Uncle Darius, though he's not really an uncle by blood. He came with me to help keep me out of trouble. He got conked on the head by a goblin with a chamber pot, but he seemed to be fine. I just haven't seen him in a little while."

Shalelu's absence is immediate, the way silence fills a room after a bird flies out the window. Esgean watches the door a moment longer, as if expecting her to return, to amend something she didn't say.

Then Sara's worry, Joanna's tapping fingers, Sergyn's questions ripple outward. The table becomes a tide pool of unease.

"She's right," Esgean murmurs finally. "Doing nothing is a kind of rot." Her fingers trace the condensation ring left by her glass. "But maybe not everything needs chasing. Some truths come when the noise dies down." She glances at the others. "Still, if there are people missing, that's a thread too."

She looks toward the hearth where the fire is half-collapsed, sparks twitching like nervous thoughts.

Sergyn nods in agreement with Esgean and says "Perhaps there's something there. If nothing, we investigating might be exactly the kind of high profile activity the sheriff wanted from us." Scratching his elbow, he says "I will sound like my cousin Tint now. Where was he when you last knew of him?"

One of the regulars sitting nearby, leans back in his chair, turning a bit to address Joanna, "Yer Uncle...big man, thick Magnimmar accent? "

At Joanna's nod, "Yeh....saw 'im down at the docks, help'n them re-build one o'them piers burnt up by them gobbies."

Ameiko then walks up and ruefully looks at the mess Shalelu left behind, glancing at the doorway, "Left already...and left a mess...don't ever change, my fried. " she says with smile , mostly to herself, then looks to you, [b]"I think she ordered enough for you, but let me know if you want anything else.

[

Hearing that Darius is fine and busy helping, Joanna relaxes and smiles.

"Thank you sir. I appreciate it," She says as Ameiko walks up.

"I think I'm fine for now. I'll let you know if that changes," the tells the innkeeper with a grin.

When it's just the six of them again she looks to the others.

"Well now that we know where Uncle Darius is, What shall we do on the morrow? If we're supposed to make our presence known, perhaps we should see if there's anything we can help with," she says.

Sergyn says "I myself feel more comfortable researching knowledge. I'd like to spend the day with my old teacher, Brodert. I still haven't gotten around to visiting him yet, and he still owes me for the bet on our last game of Siege. And I want to research other cases when goblins were rounded up in the past. Especially in this region. I'm sure there'll be something useful in his library."

Esgean sits back in her chair, hands wrapped loosely around a mug gone lukewarm, watching the pulse of the room. The place breathes with laughter, clinking tankards and the rhythm of boots on wood, sounds that only a few nights ago might've been drowned out by screams and chaos. Now it's as if Sandpoint itself exhales in relief through these walls.

She goes absent from her companions for a long moment, distracted by so much activity. Without breaking her gaze she speaks softly to Rejke, "Resilient little town, isn't it?" Then her attention is drawn to a whirlwind of movement across the room.

Ameiko Kaijitsu.

When Ameiko passes near, Esgean straightens, offering a faint, crooked smile. "You've the busiest hands in Sandpoint, it seems. I half expected the place to be shuttered after the raid. Yet here you are, walls standing, hearth burning, mugs full. Seems it takes more than goblins to shake the Dragon's scales."

Her face flush and her tongue loosened by libation, Esgean probes further. "Yours is a unique face here - the Lady of the Dragon - and yet in a way, Sandpoint is you. I wonder, how did you come by this place? You don’t seem like one who stumbled into tavern-keeping by accident."

There's a story there. Esgean can feel it, same as the current beneath the calm.

After eating plenty Marbyn feels content and drowsy. Maybe it's just the desire to snooze, but she can't think of any truly useful ways of chasing clues. After all, whoever or whatever is directing the goblins would almost certainly be outside of town rather than in town.

But everyone seems eager so she makes up a suggestion.

"Well, we know the goblins can into town from more than one point of entry. Timing that sort of thing isn't easy. We could go check around the places where they came in. Might be something there to find."

Apologies gang - RL has been kicking my proverbial backside. Getting my feet clear now tho...

Bulvarius sits picking over his meal, eating frugally - enough to fuel the body but not weigh it down. He listens intently to voices familiar from a battle shared and new.

The armiger leant back in his seat, his brow furrowed;

"Aye Master Dapper, would make sense to check those spots - as much for their fortification as to if they hold clues to the goblyns collective purpose..."

He mulls his words, recalling what the elven ranger had imparted;

"Could it be this bugbear Bruthazmu - who is the messenger for this pervading evil? Shalelu said it trades with all of the tribes... Could it be the creature also brokers news or instruction..? When we are free of Hemlock's duties perhaps it is with that blaggard we should start?"

[ooc]I think Bulvarius meant Miss Dapper there, mate. ;)[ooc]

Joanna watches Esgean as she asks Ameiko about how she came to own the Rusty Dragon. It wasn't all that long ago, from what Joanna recalls, and she's interested in the tale as well, but Marbyn's and Bulvarius' words pull her back to the task Sheriff Hemlock has given them.

"We could check around town," Joanna agrees. "I think Sergyn has a good idea as well, but perhaps we should try fitting those things in while we go about town. While we go about helping people and making our presence known, we could look for clues about how the goblins got into this place, then we visit Master Quink in the evenings to see what we can learn, though I imagine he has more books on the ruins you can find all through Varisia than old accounts of goblin attacks in the region from what I have heard of him."

Knowledge(Local) for information on Bugbears and Bruthazmus in particular: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (4) + 6 = 10

Joanna frowns for a moment as she tries to recall what she's learned about Bugbears and Bruthazmus in general. She has a vague recollection of hearing the name before tonight, but that's all it is, vague. She knows Bugbears are bigger, hairier, and stronger cousins to goblins with a taste for cruelty, but that's all she can recall.

Seems like I need to start paying attention to more than just who's a good singer or artist. Wonderful. I guess I need to start learning more about goblins and bugbears in general. Isn't that just grand.

Her acerbic tone in her own mind produces a wry smile as she looks to Bulvarius.

"As for chasing down bugbears, and particularly Bruthazmus, we may want to learn more about them. All I know is what you pick up from whispered conversations and dire warnings to children. Perhaps we should add those topics to our course of study," she asks as she turns to Sergyn.

Mistress Dapper indeed - my bad :)

The Hellknight-in-training nods in agreement;

"Indeed. The more we know of our foes, the better we shall be in combatting them..."

He turns to Sergyn;

"When you speak with your old master can you also enquire on any tomes or writings pertaining to legendary monsters of this region? While battle gobkin and the like hones the skill, my true purpose lies in battling those perilous creatures and I would kenning more of their habits."

Sergyn tries joining Joanna in remembering thing.

Knowledge local Bruthazmus: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (12) + 8 = 20
Knowledge local local monsters: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (19) + 8 = 27

He replies to Bulvarius "I don't think a library is the best place to find that. Maybe the sheriff has more information, or even Shalelu herself. But I'll give it a try, sure."

Ameiko smiles at Esgean's prompting her to tell some of her own story. She grabs a spare glass and pours some of Shalelu's Mother's wine. After a sip, she relates how her family came to the town and setup the glassworks, the scandal of her half-elf brother's birth, and her Mother's subsequent death. She then tells of her own rebellion against her Father's wishes, leaving to adventure in the region until returning and opening the Rusty Dragon.

Ruminating over her glass, she says, "Family's a tricky thing, my brother is off somewhere and my Father likewise is leaving, but I have my other Family here!" she says, looking up brightly at the packed tavern of happy customers.

She then follows the conversation, before interjecting, "No offence, but if you go out seeking that bugbear, you'll most likely die. You're too inexperienced. Even Shalelu with all of her years of travelling the wilderness, well she said it herself, they've fought to a draw a number of times. Yes, do your researches, but wait until you're more seasoned before attempting to tackle one such as that!"

Then she's interrupted by one of her customers, a mere slip of a girl , asking "would you sing for us, Ameiko? Please?"

Ameiko obviously wants to demure, but some nearby customers here the request and gently encourage her to acquiesce.

with a wry smile, Ameiko stands and pulls a a harp-like instrument from the wall, to the cheers of the crowd. A hush falls over, for performances by the Rusty Dragon's owner are few and far between.

After a few moments of tuning, Ameiko begins to play....and then to sing.

Her song starts mournfully, speaking of loss and tragedy, before the chords become more uplifting and the lyrics promise of hope and good fortune.

She smiles as cheers erupt as the last chord fades, and she stands and replaces the harp with a fiddle and begins to play fast and sharp, customers leaping to their feet to dance!

Joanna takes Ameiko's warning about going after Bruthazmus to heart. She knows nothing about the bugbear, but Shalelu's reputation is enough to give her an idea of how dangerous it could be if they run across someone capable of fighting the elven ranger to a draw. Admonished for any thought she had about going after the brute, she wants to ask more about Ameiko's adventures, but then the young girl asks if Ameiko could sing.

Joanna beams at the innkeeper, hoping that the encouragement from the crowd would win her over. The performance is as wonderful as she could have hoped and when Ameiko pulls out a fiddle, she leaps up to dance with the crowd, dragging her cousin, Sara, in with a laugh as she does so. For a moment, the young noblewoman forgets about the goblin raid and the shadows looming over Sandpoint and revels in the festive atmosphere of the Rusty Dragon.

Esgean listens quietly as Ameiko speaks, the murmur of the tavern softening around the innkeeper's words. The story feels worn smooth by time, like driftwood, carried and reshaped until what remains is both fragile and enduring. Family, loss, rebellion, return. The familiar shape of a wound that never fully closes.

When Ameiko lifts her glass and names the town her other family, Esgean's gaze drifts down into the dregs of her drink.

Family.

Her thoughts slip unbidden to the forest's edge, where the trees rise like sentinels and the air always smells of cedar and sap. She can almost see her father there, a gentle man, hands thick with callus, guiding the axe as though it were part of him. He never spoke of strength as something loud or cruel. He spoke of care, of choosing the right tree, of leaving the young ones space to grow, of knowing when to stop cutting.

Her brother's face follows, wide-eyed, tender, always asking questions she never found the patience to answer. She wonders if he still follows her trail into the woods when the fog comes low, pretending to be the ranger she once promised she'd become.

And her mother, gone too soon. The ache of her absence used to feel like an open wound, but now it's something quieter, folded into the sound of wind through branches and the steady rhythm of her breath when she walks alone beneath the trees. Nature has a way of stitching grief into growth. The forest taught her that.

Ameiko's voice draws her back with the first notes of her song curling through the air, fragile, human, beautiful. Esgean lifts her eyes and watches as the melancholy melts into a promise of hope, then flares into the wild joy of the fiddle. The crowd erupts, boots striking the floor in time, and Esgean feels something loosen in her chest. Maybe that's what Sandpoint teaches, in its own rough way: that loss and laughter can share the same breath.

She raises her glass toward the stage, voice low and half-lost in the noise. "To family," she says to her new friends, "and to roots that will always hold fast."

The foreboding warning from Ameiko in facing the bugbear seems instead to pique the young Hellknight's interest, as the revelry surrounding him fades to grandiose thoughts of glory;

Bruthazmus... A worthy foe. One to make a name storied...

Renowned...

Esgean's toast the group brings him back to the room, and he raises his own cup in quiet acknowledgment.

"Hear! Hear!" Joanna raises her glass to join Esgean's, quite unaware of the trail of thoughts going through Bulvarius' mind.

And so, the evening festivities continue, with Ameiko seemingly begrudgingly surrendering the stage to another several artists who sing and play and continue the merriment! It would seem that while the restaurant's activities could survive without her for a time, an emergency in the kitchen needed her attention.

A brief lull in the Rusty Dragon's celebration allows the patrons to hear other nearby establishments also lending their voices to a concerted volley of sound, as if the town hoped those who perpetrated such horror upon them were listening, listening to the hope and happiness, laughter and song, lifting up into the clear evening....a repudiation of that horrible act!

Feel free to RP some more or do some downtime activities before I move us along.

After a little while, Joanna tracks down Esgean.

"Hello! May I join you and Rejke," she asks in cheerful voice that's more her wont than the serious tone she'd adopted earlier.

Sergyn shares with Bulvarius "So, what I've heard of this Bruthazmus is that he really hates elves. Apparently he walks around with a necklace of elven ears. But really, any of the goblin leaders that Shalelu mentioned would be a worthy foe for you. Just remember to bring me along when fighting them."

Ameiko's performance hits Sergyn especially hard. He doesn't speak for the rest of the night, however not because he is angry or sorrowful. Instead, he shows a relaxed face, and enjoys the festivities. He just isn't comfortable getting up and dancing himself.

The young scholar goes to bed early, and also wakes early. He knocks on his old teacher's door. Brodert's door is usually unlocked, but the two used to play a game where the other tried to guess the other's mood by the knock. Sergyn enters and Brodert doesn't look away from the scroll he is currently reading. He just says "Depressed today, are we?" Sergyn replies "Hungry really, is that the same thing?" Brodert looks at him to find his old student, now friend, carrying a small basket of Avertin's freshly baked buns with jam fillings.

After breakfast, Sergyn says "Do you have any books on the history of goblin activity here in the region?" He doesn't explain why he's asking, even after Brodert asks.

Eventually, the noise ebbs, like the tide receding. Ameiko's fiddle has gone still, her laughter swallowed into the rhythm of the room. The fire crackles, glasses clink softly, and for the first time all evening, Sandpoint breathes in unison, content, tired, alive.

Esgean sits a long while before she moves. Her fingers comb through the thick fur on the scruff behind Rejke's head; her heart thuds against her ribs like a trapped bird. She's never sung for a crowd. Not since the small gatherings by the logging fire back home, when her father would hum and her brother would clap off-beat.

But the moment feels right.

She stands quietly and crosses toward the small platform still holding the echo of Ameiko's music. A few faces turn; others only half-notice, drifting between conversation and candlelight. Esgean clears her throat once, not for attention but for courage.

"This isn't a song of victory," she says to anyone listening. Her gaze falls onto her new friends at the table. "Just a promise that we'll keep fighting."

Perform, Sing: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (20) + 3 = 23

She begins in a minor key. The melody ascends to the root, then falls down the arpeggio, encircling the fifth before resolving on the octave. It's a haunting tune but Esgean sings it sweetly from her very soul, her voice high and clear.

"The fire came and the smoke took the sky,
We stood in the cinders, too tired to cry.
The fields lay hollow, the river ran black,
But the wind whispered softly, the green will come back.

So lay down your sorrow, let the night be kind,
The dawn still remembers the hearts left behind.
From ruin to blossom, from shadow to stone,
We rise with the morning, never alone."

Later, when the curtain closes on the night and she is approached by Joanna she smiles and nods. "Of course!"

As I said in the discussion thread. So sorry for not getting back to this sooner.

Joanna grins as she sits down and holds out an inviting hand for Rejke to be petted by if he so wishes.

"That song was lovely, and something that I think we need to be reminded of from time to time," she starts. "Music and laughter do have a way of healing our hearts and souls, and it was a joy to hear you sing so wonderfully. Maybe we should do a duet next time?"

Marbyn enjoys herself well enough during the evening. Because she is enjoying herself, Marbyn delays mentioning anything about the itchiness in the back of her brain. It's a collection of thoughts that she can't put to rest. As she ruminates on them more here and there through the evening, she becomes convinced. But, she's really bored of the round and round of the who's and why's of the attack and the goblins, which they've thankfully put to rest for a while.

At the very end of the evening, as the very last thing she does before she makes for the door of the tavern, Marbyn lays out the flaw she sees in what they seem to have settled on the the time being.

"You know, I don't think it's the bugbear who's organized the goblins. Maybe he could organize them, but I don't think he could plan the attack. Partially I don't think so because he doesn't seem the type to be on top."

"He might force himself into controlling one tribe, but he can only be in one place at a time. Intimidation wouldn't be enough to stitch all the tribes together. To get them all aligned and keep them that way would take clever talk and manipulation. That doesn't seem to fit what we know of bugbears."

"But that's not even the big problem. Whoever planned the attack not only united the goblins, they planned an attack that requires good knowledge of the town. What would be happening when on just the right day for it. Where exactly things are. Distances in town, where to enter unseen, and how to get out unseen with the very old corpse of a priest who couldn't have mattered an iota to goblins and bugbears."

"We're looking for someone, or maybe more than one person, of a race that can move about freely in Sandpoint and get to know it at the very least. More likely I think, we're looking for someone who lives in town."

"Anyway, good night and see you tomorrow."

"That song was lovely, and something that I think we need to be reminded of from time to time," she starts. "Music and laughter do have a way of healing our hearts and souls, and it was a joy to hear you sing so wonderfully. Maybe we should do a duet next time?"

Esgean grins from ear to ear at Joanna's praise. She felt it was maybe her best ever performance; a moment of inspired confidence.

"I'd like that very much," she replies. "Honestly, I don't know what I was thinking. I never do that." She feels her cheeks flush and examines the empty glass being swept away from her seat at the table. "I never talk this much!" she exclaims absently. "I like it!"

"I'd like that very much," she replies. "Honestly, I don't know what I was thinking. I never do that." She feels her cheeks flush and examines the empty glass being swept away from her seat at the table. "I never talk this much!" she exclaims absently. "I like it!"

"Perhaps Shelyn was inspiring you, though it could be the wine, I suppose," Joanna muses, pausing for a moment as she waits for the perfect time to strike.

"Or perhaps it was a certain elf," she asks sweetly, an impish grin showing her teeth, though it's clear her teasing is all in good humor and without a bit of malice.

When Marbyn speaks up
Joanna listens with wide-eyed surprise as Marbyn lays out something she hadn't considered, and feels both shame and fear go through her. Shame for having misjudged the halfling, and fear for what she observed implies. There is a traitor among Sandpoint's people, and after the Late Unpleasantness, that hurts worse than everything that had happened during the Swallowtail Festival.

"I wish you were wrong, Marbyn," she says quietly, all of her previous joviality gone. "I don't think you are, though the last thing we can afford is to divide the town with witch hunts."

I'm jumping in the scene because it's a little blurry whether everyone's here or not, so...

Sergyn looks at Marbyn and nods at Joanna's comments. In truth, he wouldn't have been able to express his thoughts with better words. He does add "It's a scary thought. But I would be more scared to spread these ideas throughout town. It would quickly turn people on each other, and people would start pointing fingers at anyone who don't like very much. I've read about this, it happened in different cities in Cheliax more than once, and Taldor has its share of occurrences as well."

Looking around to make sure that no one is near, he adds "Is there anyone in particular we might suspect? I've been out of town too long to know who to distrust. But if I think about it, I may think that my cousin James has something to do with this, maybe, he is too keen on securing my mom's house for himself and his wife."

Meta-linguistic Sergyn

The evening takes an unexpected turn as it winds down, thrust sideways on Marbyn's hypothesis of a traitor in their midst. Admittedly, Esgean was exposed to only a narrow thoroughfare of chaos outside the tannery, having foregone the festival excitement out of a fear of crowds. It would not have occurred to her that the goblin invasion might have been planned for that occasion and not merely a coincidence.

But to suggest one of the townsfolk was a point person or even a ring leader for the attack was a serious claim, prompting more questions than answers. Were they supposed to investigate the townsfolk? The Sheriff had not said anything of the sort. The young druid is alarmed that some of her new companions would rush to make a list of suspects.

For now, she distances herself from the conversation, choosing to not interject.

"Time for bed," she says to Rejke. Then to the others she adds, "We'll see you all in the morning."

Marbyn pauses long enough for a reply to Joanna.

"Oh, it won't help anyone if we start telling people this. Everyone will lose their heads and start thinking, saying, and doing all manner of crazy stuff. It would also put whoever we might be looking for on notice and make them harder to find. I'm saying we keep our eyes and ears open to clues closer to home."

Marbyn scurries away before Sergyn starts doing what she's said they should not be doing.

Joanna gives Sergyn a weary look.

"I think it's too late in the evening and too early to be asking those kinds of questions. At the very least, we need to find something more substantial than mere speculation, and I don't think any of us are going to find that tonight."

She waves a farewell to Esgean, Rejke, and Marbyn before letting out a yawn.

"If you'll excuse me, Master Sergyn. I'm off to bed. It appears we'll be having a busy day tomorrow."

Sergyn also goes home, oblivious to the looks he's receiving.

Bulvarius too takes his leave, a concerned frown worn on his features;

An investigation into the townsfolk would not be without challenge...

"I tethered my aspirations to the Order of The Pike to challenge monsters and titans... and gain renown. Witchhunts and inquisitions? That is the Pyre's remit, not mine... and one that rarely ends well."

Rubbing a hand over his cropped hair, the Hellknight aspirant bids you all a good night.